


Letting Go

by Boom



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Stilinski Family Feels, dark but hopeful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 10:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2147475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boom/pseuds/Boom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has a secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letting Go

Stiles pulled roughly at his tie, the door slamming behind him as he made his way to the stares.

“Stiles?” his father called from the kitchen. Stiles paused, his foot on the first step, staring at his shoe.

“Stiles, is that you?”

He took a deep shuddering breath and swiped his eyes. He wasn’t crying but he wanted to be safe, “It’s me, Dad.”

“Everything all right? You slammed the door pretty hard.”

“Yeah,” Stiles stood up straighter, “Yeah everything’s fine. I’m gonna go change real quick, okay?”

“Okay,” his dad seemed to hesitate, just out of sight, “You wanna talk about it?”

Stiles closed his eyes, gritting his teeth for the barest second, “Naw, I’m fine,” his voice didn’t even shake when he spoke, “I just need a shower.”

Then he moved up the stairs, desperate to get to his room.

 

/-\

 

Scott was not used to Stiles being so quiet. He kept shooting glances at his friend as they played Call of Duty, waiting, but he wasn’t sure what for.

Stiles finally flicked his eyes to Scott, “What?”

“You okay?” he asked.

“Dude, I’m fine,” Stiles turned his attention back to the game.

“You’re just quiet,” Scott stated, taking Stile’s lead and focusing on the TV. 

Stiles shrugged, “Got nothing to say.”

“You never have nothing to say,” Scott chided.

Stiles just shrugged again. Scott let it go.

 

/-\

 

Stiles spread all his college admissions on the kitchen table, glaring pointedly at every paper as if it could make the decision for him. Jeeze and he thought applying had been rough.

“College applications?” his dad asked, leaning over his shoulder.

“Acceptance letters,” Stiles corrected absently, “I’m trying to figure out which program is best while still staying close to home.”

“Oh yeah?”

Stiles watched his dad out of the corner of his eye as he pulled open the fridge morosely, looking for anything edible.

“Yeah,” Stiles continued flipping through the folders and pamphlets, “I’m pretty sure you’ll starve if I’m not around to buy groceries every week.”

The Sherriff snorted, his head in the freezer now, “I can fend for myself, Stiles.”

Stiles sighed, pushing away from the table, “I’m gonna go for a walk. I need to clear my head before it explodes.”

“Don’t stay out too late.”

Stiles just grabbed his hoodie and left.

 

/-\

 

Everyone was giving him weird looks. Stiles could feel them. It was actually getting a little annoying even as he tried to ignore it until Derek Hale of all people called him out.

“We’re having movie night,” he said when he cornered Stiles outside of school, “You’re coming.”

“Hey, whoa,” Stiles tried to pull to a stop as Derek dragged him to the car, “Do I get a say in this?”

“No,” Derek replied, shoving Stiles in the back seat and throwing the Jeep’s keys to Scott on the sidewalk, “Follow us.”

“Dude, is this some sort of intervention?” Stiles asked, looking at Isaac, Erica and Boyd.

“No,” Erica smiled, looking a little more feral than usual, “It’s movie night.”

“Right,” Stiles drew out the word, because he wasn’t convinced, “Guys, you know I’m fine.”

“Yeah, we know,” Derek said lightly, as if he were humoring him. Stiles glared at the rearview mirror, but Derek just pulled into traffic.

“Seriously, I’m fine.”

“So what movie are we watching?” Erica jumped in, “I was thinking—“

“No,” the whole car said at once.

“Let’s watch that new Fast and Furious,” Boyd said, angling himself to face the back seat.

“God, no, please,” Isaac rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, “Let’s watch a comedy.”

“Not Wedding Crashers,” Stiles and Derek said at the same time.

“Dude, seriously?” Isaac whined just as Derek’s phone chimed. He handed it to Boyd who read the text.

“Looks like Allison and Lydia chose RED.”

There was a moment of silence before the car gave grudging acceptance and Boyd sent a text back to confirm. Stiles hadn’t been to Derek’s apartment in months (okay, _a_ month, whatever), and the place showed it. Clothes were all over the place, dirty dishes covered most flat surfaces and Stiles was positive there were at least a dozen Health Code violations in the living room alone.

“You brought me here to clean,” Stiles said, surveying the mess, “I can’t believe this. How do you _live_ here?” 

__“Haven’t been home much,” Derek grumbled, but Stiles didn’t miss the tips of his ears going pink._ _

__“You guys are the worst,” He huffed, starting to pile plates to take to the sink. The rest started doing the same around him. The place looked moderately clean when the rest of the pack showed up. Allison gave Stiles a hug, but other than that it was as if he hadn’t gone missing. Because that’s what he’d done for the past month. Cut himself off from all these people. It made his chest ache and he promised himself he’d be around more. He knew he was probably lying, but he did it anyway._ _

__After the movie, Lydia and Jackson skipped out and the rest soon followed, leaving Stiles, Isaac and Derek alone in the apartment. Stiles sighted the boys’ lack of hygiene for staying after, punctuating it by washing dishes in the sink while the dishwasher hummed next to his hip. Isaac decided to lug all the clothes to the basement laundry room for some sorely needed cleaning and Derek took the trash out. When he came back, he just stood in the kitchen doorway, watching Stiles work._ _

__“You could help, you know,” Stiles said, not looking up, “I think the wall will survive without you holding it up.”_ _

__Derek didn’t even force a laugh and Stiles figured he wasn’t disappointed, it wasn’t that good of a joke anyway…_ _

__“Are you okay?”_ _

__Stiles paused, his hands half submerged in the soupy water before he continued scrubbing, “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”_ _

__“You don’t seem fine.” _you don’t smell fine. _____

___“Well I am,” he replied, trying to keep the sharp note out of his voice._ _ _

___“Stiles—“_ _ _

___“Look, I don’t want to talk about it,” Stiles turned, rubbing his hands on a warn dishcloth, leaning casually against the sink._ _ _

___Derek looked like he wanted to say something, but bit it back before trying again, “I just want to let you know I’m here for you. We all are. Okay?”_ _ _

___Stiles immediate reaction was to brush it off, turn back to the sink and keep working. But for once he just closed his eyes and sighed, taking a long, very deep breath. Without a word, strong arms were wrapping around him, holding him to an impossibly solid chest. Stiles froze for all of a second before returned the hold, fisting his hands in Derek’s t-shirt and, after dragging in a painful breathe, sobbing. It wasn’t elegant, it wasn’t long, but it was enough. Derek didn’t seem to care Stiles left a snot stain on his shoulder, so Stiles didn’t mention the light kisses Derek had left on his head._ _ _

___ _

___/-\_ _ _

___ _

___“You have a good day at school, Kiddo?”_ _ _

___“Yeah Dad.”_ _ _

___ _

___/-\_ _ _

___ _

___Stiles made it a priority to be around the Pack more. He consciously spoke to Boyd or Isaac between classes, he ate lunch with Scott and Lydia, and he actively sought people out to the point of even asking Jackson for help with lacrosse. He was a jerk about it, but no more than usual. Movie nights became a regular thing, everyone cramming onto Derek’s ridiculously large couch with drinks and snacks and blankets, always hogging Stile’s space, but never acknowledging it. And after every movie people would leave, Isaac would make himself scarce and Derek would be there. Sometimes they’d just clean up, other times they would talk. Always Derek made it a point to touch Stiles’ arm or shoulder or back, a physical reminder of his presence._ _ _

___It was nice. Stiles could admit that._ _ _

___“You can stay here, you know,” Derek said one night, helping Stiles pack left overs._ _ _

___Stiles looked up, “Huh?”_ _ _

___“You can stay here,” he repeated, carrying his small pile of Tupperware to the refrigerator, “You don’t have to go home if you don’t want to.”_ _ _

___Stiles opened and closed his mouth for a good minute, “Gyuhh.”_ _ _

___Derek gave him a look so Stiles straightened, his face turning red, “Yeah,” he said, more eloquently, “Yeah, sure, thanks.”_ _ _

___Derek shrugged, not making eye contact._ _ _

___ _

___/-\_ _ _

___ _

___“Stiles?” Isaac rubbed his eyes, “What are you doing here?”_ _ _

___Stiles shrugged easily, “Couldn’t sleep. You gonna let me in?”_ _ _

___“It’s three in the morning,” Isaac replied._ _ _

___“Oh really?” Stiles looked at his empty wrist in surprise, “Huh. Well, I’ll just—“_ _ _

___The door was pulled open further to reveal Derek, his hair sleep mussed. He took one look and left the door wide, moving to the couch. Stiles and Isaac watched him go before glancing at each other. Isaac just walked back into the apartment, leaving the door for Stiles to shut._ _ _

___“Go sleep in the loft,” Derek directed, rubbing his eyes, “I’ll stay down here.”_ _ _

___Isaac’s eyebrows nearly disappeared behind his bangs, but he only nodded, shooting a much more interested glance at Stiles as he mounted the steps. Stiles ignored him and flopped onto the couch a respectable distance from Derek who just sniffed, turning on the TV._ _ _

___“You wanna talk about it?” he grunted._ _ _

___“No,” Stiles murmured, watching the black and white images on screen. Derek didn’t press him. They watched The Munsters until the sun slowly filtered through the windows. Stiles left without a word an hour before school and went about his day as if nothing happened. Derek followed his lead._ _ _

___ _

___/-\_ _ _

___ _

___“Seriously man, why can’t I come over?” Scott asked for the millionth time exasperatedly._ _ _

___“You just can’t right now, okay, Scott?” Stiles snapped, spinning on his heal to halt his best friend on the bottom step of the porch, “It’s a mess and I haven’t cleared out anything—“_ _ _

___“Well let us help you,” Scott reasoned, “Stiles, we’re your friends. We’re supposed to be there for you, you know?”_ _ _

___“I know,” Stiles ran a hand through his hair agitatedly, “I know and I appreciate it, but—“_ _ _

___“So let us help!”_ _ _

___“ _I can’t_ Scott. Okay? I can’t,” Stiles fumbled in his pocket and opened the door with one hand, “I’ll call you later, okay?”_ _ _

___“Stiles—“_ _ _

___Stiles slammed the door, leaning his head heavily followed by the rest of him against the door jam, wishing he had supernatural hearing to make sure Scott was gone._ _ _

___“Everything okay, son?” the Sherriff called from the kitchen. Stiles closed his eyes against the intense ache opening in his chest before straitening and following his father’s voice._ _ _

___“Yeah, just grabbing a snack.”_ _ _

___ _

___/-\_ _ _

___ _

___The crash woke him before the wind. Stiles blinked blearily, trying to figure out how his room was so cold when he saw Derek, a shadow with bright red eyes, staring at his bedroom door. Stiles blinked again, trying to make sense of the situation, until it all came back with a lurch._ _ _

___“Derek!” Stiles hissed, thrashing out of the sheets and to his feet._ _ _

___“Stiles,” Derek rumbled warningly, eyes trained on the door, “What’s going on?”_ _ _

___“I’ve got it under control,” he started immediately, standing between the Alpha and the sound of thrown furniture a floor below, “It’s nothing you need to worry about, trust me—“_ _ _

___There was another crash, this time sounding like dishes, making Stiles wince slightly, “I’ll clean it in the morning, okay? He just get’s like this sometimes, it’s not a problem—“_ _ _

___“Wait, what?” Derek stared down at the teenager, his eyes intensifying. He seemed to be working something out, holding Stiles’ gaze searchingly until it clicked. A hurricane of emotions flooded across Derek’s face, none of which Stiles wanted to think about._ _ _

___“Stiles,” Derek’s eyes were fading back to their normal hazel, “You can’t—“_ _ _

___“Don’t,” Stiles tried to sound annoyed but the word just came out tired, “Alright, Derek? Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I know already. Listen, it’s over, see?”_ _ _

___“Stiles, you can’t _stay here_ ,” Derek tried with more force this time, “Stay with Scott or someone, but this? This is not safe.”_ _ _

___Stiles actually scoffed, “Oh now you worry about my safety. Three years following you around, doing your bidding, _almost dying_ and now you worry.”_ _ _

___“I’ve always been worried, Stiles,” Derek growled, taking a step into the boy’s space. Stiles didn’t even flinch, his gaze steady on Derek as he said, “Shove it up your ass.”_ _ _

___Derek blinked._ _ _

___“I don’t need it Derek,” Stiles continued, “I’ve been doing this for a long time, just like you. I’ll be fine. So you go home to your little fortress of solitude and I’ll go to bed and we’ll forget this ever happened.”_ _ _

___“Stiles—“_ _ _

___“Derek, I’m not playing with you,” Stiles snapped, “Get out.”_ _ _

___Derek went quiet as Stiles turned away, crawling back under the covers. He turned over to get comfortable and stared at his empty room, the window now closed._ _ _

___He didn’t sleep the rest of the night._ _ _

___ _

___/-\_ _ _

___ _

___“Derek told me,” Scott said simply._ _ _

___Stiles slammed his locker door shut, turning away from his best friend, “Derek needs to shut his mouth.”_ _ _

___“Stiles, what’s going—“_ _ _

___“Nothing, okay?” Stiles turned on him, stopping their progress while students flowed around them, “Nothing’s going on. I can handle it.”_ _ _

___“Has…” Scott seemed to hesitate, unsure how to proceed, “Is it…”_ _ _

___Stiles sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and taking up a familiar stance (hands on his hips, eyes on the ground) before dropping it instantly and looking at his best friend wearily._ _ _

___Scott had noticed it too, “Stiles.”_ _ _

___“I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Stiles didn’t wait for an answer as the bell rang._ _ _

___ _

___/-\_ _ _

___ _

___He was half way to his car before a flurry of strawberry blonde hair blocked his view, “Give them to me.”_ _ _

___Stiles blinked, looking from Lydia to Allison at her side, looking just as stoic, “What’s this about?”_ _ _

___“You’re not going home,” Lydia replied matter-a-factly, “You can stay with me, you can stay with Scott, you can stay with Derek. You are not going home.”_ _ _

___Stiles’ face morphed from confusion to rage, “Fuck you.”_ _ _

___Lydia just snorted, grabbing Stiles’ keys from his lax grip, “You wish.”_ _ _

___“I need to go—“_ _ _

___“No, you don’t,” Lydia cut in. Stiles closed his mouth, fury mounting._ _ _

___“I’ll drive you to Derek’s,” Allison said, and lead him off before he could react._ _ _

___ _

___/-\_ _ _

___ _

___“You’re an asshole!”_ _ _

___Derek looked up from the TV and over to the door where Stiles stood, heart pounding, seething with rage._ _ _

___“You are a one hundred percent piece of shit asshole, Hale!”_ _ _

___Derek didn’t even blink, just turned the TV off and motioned to the other end of the couch, “Take a seat, Stiles.”_ _ _

___“No, you know what? Fuck you,” Stiles stormed further into the loft but refused to take a seat, “This is my business! Mine! This has nothing to do with you or the pack—“_ _ _

___“It has to do with you,” Derek said sharply, “And your business is pack business.”_ _ _

___“No it isn’t!” Stiles nearly shouted, “This is personal! This is between me and—“_ _ _

___Stiles faltered, the words seeming to swell in his throat. Derek saw the tears before they broke and stood, trying to comfort, but Stiles stepped away, looking down. His voice was rough when he spoke again, “You had no right to tell everyone.”_ _ _

___“I had to,” Derek replied._ _ _

___Stiles looked up, face still stubbornly angry even as tears slipped down his cheeks, “He’s my family, Derek. He’s all I’ve got.”_ _ _

___Derek finally pulled Stiles to his chest, feeling the dam break in the darkness of his shirt, “We’re your family too, Stiles.”_ _ _

___ _

___/-\_ _ _

___ _

___Stiles stayed at Derek’s for the last few weeks of school, on his couch, at his table… in his bed. Nothing was ever tried, Stiles felt he wasn’t ready for anything like that, but to have the feel of someone close, the warmth of a thigh, a hand, a cheek, was more than enough for him now. Stiles craved touch. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. And it wasn’t only Derek._ _ _

___Any time someone passed him in the hall they would reach out, even if it was a brief pat on the shoulder from Boyd or an all out bro hug from Scott. Lydia even squeezed his hand once, just to remind him she was there. By the time school let out, just before they graduated, Stiles had only been to his place a hand full of times, mostly to pick up clothes. Now he had the entire pack over, directing them where to take certain objects, dividing them into storage, sell, and school. He didn’t let anyone in the kitchen._ _ _

___“Have you decided?” Derek asked one night._ _ _

___“I’m thinking Stanford,” Stiles replied, not looking at his Alpha, his friend. He could feel Derek’s smile like sunshine._ _ _

___“Okay.”_ _ _

___ _

___/-\_ _ _

___ _

___“Dad?”_ _ _

___“Yeah, son?”_ _ _

___Stiles didn’t look up from the wood grain of the table, thrown in stark relief by the setting sun. His bags were packed by the front door, everything else he was taking with him already in the jeep and everything he was keeping either in storage or at Derek’s._ _ _

___“I need to talk to you.”_ _ _

___“What is this about, Stiles?”_ _ _

___Stiles felt the tears, even as he tried valiantly to stop them, “It’s about you.”_ _ _

___Stiles looked up, watching his dad leaning on the fridge door in his Sherriff’s uniform, peering inside as if he was trying to decide between left overs. The fridge was empty, “What about me, Son?”_ _ _

___“Dad.”_ _ _

___He pulled open the freezer considering, but it was empty too. The entire kitchen was dark. The cabinets were bare. Stiles felt like he was going to throw up._ _ _

___“Dad, look at me.”_ _ _

___Finally he looked at his son, his face blank, “What is it?”_ _ _

___Stiles felt his bottom lip quiver, his face breaking like his heart all over again, “You’re dead, Dad.”_ _ _

___His dad stared at him, “Excuse me?”_ _ _

___“You’re…” Stiles couldn’t bring himself to say it again. If he’d done this in the beginning, if he’d done this right after the funeral when he’d heard his father the first time… He remembered pulling at his tie, black hopelessness suffocating him from the inside, his first step on the stairs and his father’s voice, filtering through him like a dream, “You’re dead.”_ _ _

___His father straightened, eyeing him across the kitchen table, arms crossed. The stance was so familiar, so necessary for what Stiles remembered of his Dad as the Sherriff he felt a whole new wave of despair wash over him. He thought about taking it all back. Moving back in like he’d never left, putting all the furniture back in it’s place and living the rest of his life with the ghost of his father haunting the kitchen._ _ _

___“This isn’t funny, Stiles.”_ _ _

___“You had a heart attack,” Stiles told him, eyes closed so he could concentrate on the words instead of the shadow before him, “I came home and you were laying… You were on the floor. And you weren’t breathing.”_ _ _

___Stiles took a shuddering breath and used all his will to meet his father’s eyes, “Your arm was hurting a bit. You mentioned it to Parrish, but you didn’t think anything of it because you’d just pulled all those cold case boxes for the FBI.”_ _ _

___“Stiles,” his father sounded deadly angry, “This is not a joke.”_ _ _

___“I know,” Stiles dropped his gaze for a second, but he had to continue, “It was fast. So fast you probably didn’t notice. It’s why you’re stuck here.”_ _ _

___“Shut up,” he snapped, but he made no move to come closer, “Stiles I am your father, alright? I am not dead.”_ _ _

___“You can’t leave the kitchen, Dad,” Stiles pleaded._ _ _

___“I can do whatever the hell I want!”_ _ _

___“Why are you mad?”_ _ _

___“Because my son is trying to tell me I’m dead when I clearly am not!”_ _ _

___“Dad,” Stiles kept his voice calm, tried to keep it from breaking, “If you were alive you would just look at me like I was crazy and go watch TV. You wouldn’t fight me like this.”_ _ _

___“Well I’m angry, Stiles! I’m angry! This is ridiculous, what gi— Who gave you the right huh? Who gave you the right to say this crap? Huh? And if I’m dead where’s your mother? Where’s my wife?”_ _ _

___Stiles flinched like he’d been hit, but didn’t look away, “She’s waiting for you.”_ _ _

___“Waiting for me,” his dad scoffed._ _ _

___“Dad, look at the door,” Stiles said gently. It was a fair guess. In all the time Stiles had been in the kitchen, his father refused to look through the doorway to the rest of the house, had refused to go anywhere near it._ _ _

___“No.”_ _ _

___“Just look, Dad. Please.”_ _ _

___He glared at his son, then grudgingly glanced at the doorway. Stiles could feel his father’s anger break like a snapped twig. One moment, the kitchen was cold, the next heat rushed in and his father looked as if he’d never seen anything like it in his life. His eyes darted from the doorway to Stiles and back. He seemed to be fighting for words but couldn’t._ _ _

___“Claudia?”_ _ _

___Stiles wanted to turn around, wanted to see what his father saw, just one glimpse of his mother, but that’s not how this worked and he knew it, “You can go with her, Dad.”_ _ _

___His eyes shot to Stiles, “But what about you?”_ _ _

___“You can see me any time,” Stiles assured, plastering a watery smile on his face._ _ _

___His father nodded absently, already staring back at the door. Stiles didn’t turned around as he walked passed, he didn’t reach out to him, and in the breath between one second and the next, his father was gone._ _ _

___ _

___/-\_ _ _

___ _

___Derek found him hours later. He hadn’t moved from the table, still sitting in a dark room, in a dark house, with nothing but the distant creek of the for sale sign in the yard to keep him company._ _ _

___Derek set a gentle hand on his shoulder, “You okay?”_ _ _

___“No,” Stiles replied._ _ _

___Derek squeezed his shoulder before pulling him to his feet and into a hug, “You will be.”_ _ _

___Stiles let out a shuddering sigh and gripped his friend tighter, “I know.”_ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> *stares at fic*
> 
> *stares at you*
> 
> *shrugs and wanders away*


End file.
